


Capability

by Salamandersickfic



Category: Mad Max Fury road, Mad Max Series (Movies), fury road
Genre: F/M, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5592199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamandersickfic/pseuds/Salamandersickfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You're sick.” She tells him. Nux snorts. He was born sick. She tried to explain. “No- more sick. Different sick. And you're warmer than usual.”</p>
<p>Nux/Capable sickfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capability

In the days that follow the revolution Capable is always busy. She seeks out Nux whenever she can, drinking in the time with him. Today she finds him sitting in a high place in the Citadel, overlooking the workshops and the road in and out. A desert sunset paints the sky and sand the same wildcat colour and it throws red rays over the planes of his bare chest. 

Sitting is perhaps not the word. He's slumping bonelessly against the rock with his legs crossed, head tilted back and eyes closed. He's still wearing his Warboy gear, for want of anything different- black utility pants and motorcycle boots, slung around with the tools of the Black Thumb mechanic's trade. Even without his white war paint he's pale and he doesn't need it to give him black shadows under his eyes. The light paints his cheekbones hollow and plays on the scars at his lips. Still, Capable can see his beauty- it doesn't come from the outside.

She clears her throat so as not to startle him and he straightens. His face lights up like it's a holiday when he sees through it is, and he moves over to make a space for her to sit. 

It's obvious enough from his bleary movement but when she sits beside him she can feel the heat coming off of his skin. He's working up to one of the intermittent fevers that burn through all the half-life boys. 

“Tired?” Capable asks. 

Nux shrugs. It's a stupid question, they are all always tired and there is always pain. The new regime, the coveted seeds that have the potential to make the land green again, the relief from the cult of the Immortan, these things did not make a sick Warboy well again, much less one who had been presumed dead for days following Furiosa's return to the Citadel. The injuries he sustained then have nearly healed over but the sickness, the half-life he was born with, is never going to lift. 

There is something more than the usual chronic pain of the Sick in his bones today though and he after a beat he nods.

Capable inches closer and sits beside him, putting an arm around him and guiding his head down firmly toward the crook of her shoulder. He grunts and sighs, lolling into her in a jumble of scars, muscle and bone. 

They rest for a luxious moment, eyes closing. She runs a hand idly over the back of his neck, feels what remains of his close-shorn hair. 

Next moment he starts up, drawing a flinching gasp like she's hurt him. 

“Nux?”

She's about to stutter an apology as his features crimp together in a quick, distraught grimace that draws his lips open in panic, then-

“WHRFFSch!”

His whole body rocks with the unexpected sneeze, spraying into the open air. He swipes his knuckles across his nose and then settles back as if nothing had happened.

Now what was that about? 

She'd seen him in most states of abandoned control, but not this one. Curious. 

He nuzzles back into her breast. There's always a kind of wonder in the way he touches her. She's trying to undo the brainwashing that has him thinking of her as a kind of goddess, precious and shiny. She hasn't made much headway yet but the guilt he used to feel at claiming her has recently been overtaken by something more innocent. That's better. 

Another sneeze jerks him away from her. He makes no attempt to cover his face or stifle the noise- it wracks right through him and it sounds almost satifyingly animal. 

When he doesn't raise his face again immediately, she turns to watch more closely. He attempts to turn to her but his nostrils are flared wide and his brows are arching incrimentally upwards as he draws a series of chaotic breaths.

A beat and- “WRSSCH!” Another snarling release down towards his lap. 

“Sorry.” He cringes, looking up. His nose running down his lip.

To say that Capable has seen worse is an understatement. She's been among the Sick-ravaged Warboys for long enough. She just snatches a rag from her pocket and wipes.

“C'mere-” 

She grips his jaw in her hand and tilts his head to either side make sure that she gets it all. His eyes on her are a startling baby blue. The Warboy skull paint is so ground into his skin that shadows of it remain around his eye sockets and on his nose, making the blue seem even brighter as he watches her with uncertainty. He's only recently stopped slapping a hand away when it approaches his face.

“What's going on?” Capable asks, releasing him.

Nux shrugs again, cracking his neck. “Dunno. I'm broken.”

“But this is new.” She insists.

“S'not. I been doing it all day. Can't stop- fuck- WRSSChuuh!” -he provides the evidence. It's followed by a round of thick, husking coughs into a fist. This sounds worse that the usual tight wheeze in his throat on bad days. Capable can hear it now, a thick, gurgling irritation in his sinuses. 

“You're sick.” She tells him. Nux snorts. He was born sick. She tried to explain. “No- more sick. Different sick. And you're warmer than usual.”

“Night fever.” He explains again. “Every night. Normal for me.”

“Warmer than normal for you.”

“S'fine.” His expression says plainly that he doesn't understand her concern.

“We could try and do something about it.” 

His eyes go strange, drinking in her in though he can't comprehend a world where anything could be done for someone like him, attention paid to his comfort, not just to keep him fit to work and drive.

“I dunno. It's all different. I dunno what I can-” His voice breaks up, coughing again.

Capable sighs. He speaks for all of them. There are shreds of hope and change to be had now but they somehow need more strength than living under the Immortan's hideous regime had done. It's a different kind of challenge that noone has yet figured out how to meet. 

“I don't know either.” She draps her arms around him. He resists, trying to keep his wet nose away from her beautiful flame-red hair, but she doesn't let him. The world has burned, is burning, and so is he, but he's something to hold on to. 

“I don't know what I can do. But we'll keep on.” 

END.


End file.
